Michelle lies motionless underneath me while I do my best to push my penis further inside her vagina, trying in vain to evoke some degree of excitement from my wife. I’ve been humping her for a good two minutes, which isn’t bad going for me, and so I’m disappointed to look down on a rather bored looking woman to whom I am totally devoted.
All right, I know I’m not the best lover in the world. Michelle had made that abundantly clear on our honeymoon, three weeks before. What really hurt was when she told me on our wedding night, after I had embarrassingly ejaculated in my pants before we’d even undressed, that she wished she’d “tried me out” before we got married.
It was a pity that we couldn’t consummate the marriage that night (I had a bit of trouble getting an erection after that), but we did have a cracking game of Gin Rummy. It was very thoughtful of someone to have left a pack of cards in one of the drawers of the hotel’s bridal suite.
I’d insisted that we didn’t sleep together before the wedding, out of respect of my parent’s wishes (they are deeply religious). What I hadn’t told Michelle though, was that I was actually a virgin (I was slightly embarrassed about this fact, being twenty-six years old). We never talked about Michelle’s previous experience, though I suspected that she had been to bed with at least one or two men. I didn’t mind that though, I was hopelessly in love.
To be honest, I was very surprised when Michelle agreed to go out with me in the first place. I used to see her at our local tennis club and tried talking to her on a few occasions without much success. It was only after she’d seen me in the car park one day that our relationship flourished.
Jumping out of my car, after seeing Michelle strolling towards the clubhouse, I’d quickly grabbed my gear off the backseat and locked the door to my Mercedes. But before I had a chance to say anything, Michelle actually came over and remarked what a nice car it was. We began talking and before I knew it, she had practically invited herself out on a date. I couldn’t believe my luck!
Michelle is a very pretty girl. She’s 5’8″, two inches taller than I am, and at only twenty-one, five years younger. Her figure is fantastic. She plays lots of tennis, which helps keep her long legs and athletic body in shape. I, on the other hand, although a frequent visitor to the tennis club, am not very sports orientated. My co- ordination is not all that good, and so I am more of a spectator than an active participant.
After the first date, which consisted of a rather delightful meal at one of the better restaurants in town, I grew totally besotted with Michelle. I sent her flowers every day and bought her presents by the truckload. I did, after all, want to show her how much I cared. Fortunately, my well-paid job, along with my family’s money, allows me a fairly generous lifestyle, which I wanted to share with Michelle. She, by contrast, comes from a rather poorer background, but that didn’t matter to me. If love conquers all, then I was truly defeated.
It was after only two more dates that I asked Michelle to marry me. Funnily enough I don’t actually remember popping the question. We’d had a fair amount to drink that Friday evening and everything was a bit of a blur the next morning. Michelle rang me excitedly about ten o’clock and asked me if I’d changed my mind. I asked her about what?
“About wanting to marry me, silly”, came the reply.
I was stunned into silence for several moments. Had I actually asked her to marry me the night before? My head began to pound. I didn’t want Michelle to think I’d been too drunk to remember and so hurriedly made a decision.
“Of course not darling. I meant every word.”
After she’d hung up, I took some aspirin and rang my parents to tell them the good news.
And so, after a short engagement, (two weeks, four days to be precise), we said our vows.
Three weeks later and I’m making love to my wife on a Saturday morning, even though she seems to be rather pre-occupied. It does get a tad disconcerting when your wife starts talking about decorating in the middle of our lovemaking.
Despite her comments about various different styles of wallpaper for the downstairs bathroom, I start to lose control. With a big grunt from me, I ejaculate into my wife’s vagina and slump on top of her, burying my sweating brow into a pillow.
“Have you cum yet?” She asks me in a rather uninterested fashion.
“Err… yes, my dear.”
I bring my hand up to my face and press a button on the stopwatch function of my watch. Three minutes, thirty-two seconds. Great, that’s twenty-six seconds faster than my personal best!
“Simon, would you get off me now? You’re fat gut is killing me!”
“Oh, sorry my dear.”
I quickly pull out my shrinking penis, which has reduced from its five inches when fully hard, down to its more normal reduced length of about one, and flop down next to Michelle on the bed.
As I lay there trying to regain my breath, the doorbell rings.
“I wonder who that is?” remarks Michelle.
We lie there for a few seconds, until my wife turns her head towards me.
“Well? Aren’t you going to answer it?”
Although I love my wife very much, I have come to realise that she is a little bit lazy. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind doing all the cooking, but she could offer to help with some of the housework occasionally.
I get up off the bed and pull on a dressing gown. The doorbell rings again just as I reach the front door. Standing on the porch, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, is a man about my age. That’s where the similarities end though. He’s about 6’0″, with an athletic, well- toned, sun-tanned body, and I suppose what women would describe as a rather good-looking face.
“Hi, I’m sorry to disturb you… “, He looks down at my rather flushed red face, still recovering from my P.B.
“I’m Dan Williams. I’ve just moved in next door.”
He holds out a large hand, which envelops mine as we shake. His firm grip leaves my hand rather crushed when he releases it and I gently cradle it with the other behind my back, tentatively checking for broken bones.
“Simon Taylor. Welcome to the neighbourhood, Mr Williams” I say, hoping that he’ll now leave so I can close the door and cry out in pain.
“I’m still unpacking at the moment and I don’t know where my toolbox is. I was wondering if I could borrow a screwdriver?”
“Oh, I see. Well I’m not sure if I can help you. I’m not all that well equipped you see…”
“You can say that again.”
I turn round and see my lovely wife walking down the stairs, wearing just a semitransparent night-dress that shows off more than her attractive smile which she’s beaming at our new neighbour.
As Michelle reaches the bottom of the stairs, the bright sunshine streaming in through the open doorway means that the mound of her vagina is clearly visible to anyone looking; namely a very happy Dan Williams, and a very anxious me.
“Ermm… this is my wife, Mrs Taylor. Michelle, this is Dan Williams, our new neighbour.”
My wife brushes past me and stands directly in the doorway.
“Nice to meet you Dan. Is your wife with you?”
“Likewise Mrs Taylor, and no, actually I’m not married.”
From my sideways view, I can see my wife’s nipples pressing against the silky fabric of her night-dress and I wish she’d put a dressing gown on. I also see her eyes light up, when she hears that our neighbour’s single. I expect she has some matchmaking in mind with one of her friends.
The two of them are standing practically next to each other, and I worry about Michelle’s revealing neckline. I expect Dan has a good view of my wife’s breasts from his height. I can’t be sure though as I’m only 5’6″.
“I was just saying to your husband that I could use a good screwdriver.”
“I know the feeling, but what can you do?” Michelle laughs at her own comment, which quite frankly leaves me somewhat perplexed, and motions with her finger for Mr Williams to follow her.
Michelle walks along the hallway and into the kitchen, closely followed by Mr Williams, who seems to be rubbing his crotch slightly. Probably a touch of groin strain from lifting all those tea chests, I deduce. Hey, I should have been a detective!
I close the front door and scurry after them into the kitchen and out into the adjoining utility room. My wife bends over at the waist and opens a drawer, where a small assortment of tools and bric-a-brac is kept.
What she doesn’t realise though, is that the outline her two buttocks and her vagina lips are clearly on show to Mr Williams directly behind her.
“See anything you can use, Dan?” asks my wife, wiggling her behind.
I wonder if she needs the toilet?
Mr Williams clears his throat.
“Well, they’re not as big as my tools, but I guess I can make do.”
“Just how big is your tool?” Michelle asks, turning her head, still bent over at the waist.
I can’t really see the relevance of that question, but I guess she’s just making polite conversation.
“Erm… well, it’s a little over eleven inches”, replies the new neighbour, who looks to be getting fairly hot under the collar.
It does seem to be getting pretty warm; the three of us confined in the small space of the utility room.
Mr Williams must have spotted what he was looking for, because he bends over Michelle and picks up a screwdriver out of the drawer. Michelle accidentally backs into him and lets out a little yelp, and they both sort of fall forwards.
Our new neighbour reaches round and grabs Michelle to steady himself. I’m sure it’s an accident that it’s one of her breasts that he’s holding. Likewise, I’m convinced Michelle didn’t put her hand back and squeeze Mr William’s crotch on purpose. She was just trying to steady herself.
“Christ, you weren’t joking were you!” exclaims my wife, slowly getting up off the floor and then eventually releasing her grip from the man’s jeans.
“Joke? What’s the joke?” I asked, cheerily.
I do like a good laugh, me.
Michelle turns to face me, a blank expression on her face.
“You are Simon.”
I don’t quite get the punchline, and I’m still thinking about it as Michelle and Mr Williams walk past me, giggling, into the lounge.
Following their footsteps I enter the room just in time to see them sitting down together on the settee. It’s nice to see everyone getting on so well, especially as we’ve all only just met.
“Would you like a drink Dan?” asks my wife, the attentive hostess.
“Sure, something cold would be nice. It’s kind of warm all of a sudden.” He says, looking admiringly at my wife’s legs.
I look down and see that Michelle’s night-dress has ridden up, exposing a large quantity of thigh. I feel that I ought to warn her, but I don’t want to be the source of embarrassment in front of company, so I decide to defer saying anything until a more discreet moment arises.
Michelle turns her head to me as I am just about to sit down in an armchair across from them.
I look blankly at my wife and flop down into the chair.
“Drinks”, she finally says.
It’s obvious who she’s expecting to prepare the drinks. We really must sit down and have a discussion about sharing the workload around the house I decide, as I get to my feet.
“And don’t forget the apron.” Instructs my darling wife as I leave the room.
That’s another thing. Whenever I’m serving drinks or doing the housework, Michelle always insists that I wear a black and white frilly apron, which she’s bought me. If I protest, which I did quite strongly the first few times I have to say, she tells me that it makes sense to protect my clothes from spillage. She points out that because I’m rather clumsy at times, (my co-ordination not being that great as I mentioned earlier), I’m more likely to ruin my clothes if I’m not careful, and hence the apron.
One thing I have to say about my Michelle. She’s always got my best interests at heart.
And so I retire to the kitchen and put on the frilly apron over my dressing gown, which is in its usual place, hanging up behind the kitchen door. After pouring three glasses of lemonade and putting them on a tray, I return to my wife and our guest.
Curiously, as I walk through the door, I see Mr Williams hand between Michelle’s legs. When they see me come in, they look up slightly startled, and Mr Williams removes his hand.
“Err… Dan dropped his keys down the side of the sofa. He was just looking for them”, explained my wife.
“Oh right,” I said, “Do you want me to help?”
Dan feels the pocket of his jeans. “Oops, my mistake. They were here all the time.”
I had wondered what that large bulge was in Mr William’s jeans. Must be uncomfortable keeping a large set of keys like that in your jeans pocket, I thought.
I walk over to the coffee table and set down the tray, wondering what the small amount of sniggering was all about as I sit down and flatten down the front of my apron.
“Well, this is nice”, I say, smiling and raising my glass.
Mr Williams and Michelle pick up their glasses after a little encouragement from me, and we drink a toast to our new neighbour.
“To Mr Williams. I hope we can make you feel very welcome in our neighbourhood”, I cheer and tip back the glass of lemonade a little too quickly, sending bubbles up my nostrils.
Mr Williams looks at Michelle and smiles.
“I’m feeling very much at home already.”
With that my wife leans over and kisses Mr Williams on the lips, in what I’m sure is just a very friendly gesture. However, I do think that when they open their mouths and exchange tongues, that this could be construed as being a little over the top.
During the fifteen-second kiss, I take another couple of sips from my drink, and consider what I should make for lunch.
Eventually Michelle and Mr Williams untangle their tongues and brake apart. I notice that my wife’s breathing has become a little heavy, and I make a mental note to advise her to take a medical in the near future.
Remembering my duties as host, I get up and ask Mr Williams if he’d care for a top-up. In my rather over eagerness to take the half empty glass he’s holding, out of his hand, I manage to spill the remaining contents all over his lap. Apologising profusely at my clumsiness I duck into the kitchen to fetch a damp cloth.
When I return Mr Williams is standing in the middle of the lounge, looking as if he’d just wet himself. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help letting out a small, stifled chortle at the poor man’s situation.
My wife snatched the cloth from my hand and went down on her knees in front of our guest. She very attentively begins mopping up the spillage on the jeans concentrating around the crotch area.
“These are soaked,” she says, squeezing the material with her bare hand. “I think you’d better take them off.” She looks up at a somewhat surprised Mr Williams and gives him a smile.
Mr Williams looks over at me, and I gave a little shrug. I know better than to question my wife’s judgement about things. Once she makes her mind up, that’s it.
Michelle begins unbuttoning the gentleman’s jeans, which is very thoughtful of her, but I do think she can be a little less violent in the way she is ripping at his 501’s. After completing the task in record time, Michelle then begins to ease the material down over Mr William’s waist.
Pretty soon the jeans are around his ankles and Mr Williams stands in a somewhat tight fitting pair of briefs, which show a rather large outline of his penis. Unfortunately it seems that the lemonade has also penetrated the material of the jeans because I can see a large damp circle forming, which I point out to Michelle.
“Mmmm yes, I think these need to come off as well”, she says, rubbing a finger round and round the damp patch.
I thought it rather inappropriate that my wife is peeling down our next door neighbours underpants, and I’m just about to say something when I see what is contained in them.
My wife and I both gasp as an enormous penis springs into view, slapping my wife in the face.
“Oh my God!” cries Michelle, literally gob-smacked by the over-sized appendage.
“Err… quite impressive.” I manage to say, thinking about my own, rather smaller counter-part.
“Jesus, it’s beautiful!” My wife is totally mesmerised by the large piece of meat dangling between Mr Williams’ legs.
I too, am fairly amazed at the size of the man’s penis and so am not totally surprised when my wife reaches out her hand and clasped around as much of the circumference as she can. What I don’t count on though was when she says:
“Oh look, there’s some lemonade on the tip”, then dips her head and sticks out her tongue.
Before I can point out to her that it’s probably not actually lemonade, but in fact far more likely to be a natural lubricant originating from the hole of the penis (I’d read a book on that sort of thing once), it’s too late.
Her eyes cast up towards Mr Williams’ face, she runs her tongue over the tip of his penis and then, lifting the shaft so it points to the ceiling, continues to run her tongue along the underside towards the base.
Things are getting rather out of hand I access, and so seek to bring proceedings to a halt.
“Erm… my dear, shouldn’t we get Mr Williams something to wear. He must be getting rather chilly standing like that.”
Reluctantly removing her mouth from our guest’s penis, Michelle mumbles something under her breath.
“Well, that’s one hell of a goosebump then.”
“Sorry, my dear? I didn’t quite hear what you said.”
Michelle turns and grins at me, like she does when I’ve just given her a present.
“I said, well you’d better put his clothes in the washer then.” With that she throws the pairs of jeans and briefs at me, making a direct hit with the underpants which hit me square in the face.
As I wrestle to remove the offending article of clothing from my face, I can’t help noticing the strong manly odour exuding from the crotch. Michelle and Mr Williams laugh heartily as she remarks that it looks like I’m wearing a Balaclava. My wife has a terrific sense of humour at times, and I have to agree that the situation was amusing.
Gathering Mr Williams’ clothes in my arms, I announce that I will put them on a short wash before transferring them to the dryer. This seems to be widely accepted as a good idea, as neither he nor my wife makes any adverse comments. Instead Michelle leads Mr Williams out into the hall by his penis, and they head towards the stairs.
“We’re going upstairs to find Dan something to wear”, informs Michelle when I enquire where they were going.
Satisfied that my wife can handle things admirably without my assistance, I go out into the kitchen to attend to our neighbour’s washing.
A couple of minutes later I’m sitting back down in the living room, wondering what to do next. Then suddenly I hear a noise coming from upstairs. It sounds a lot like my wife screaming.
Fearing of an accident I run out of the room and up the stairs, stopping on the way to retrieve the First Aid box from a hall cupboard.
It’s always best to be well prepared for the worst, I think.
When I reach the top of the stairs I call out my wife’s name and suddenly everything goes quiet. A door slams, the sound coming from inside our bedroom, and so I rush in there only to find the room empty and the door to the en suite bathroom firmly closed.
“Michelle? Are you all right my dear? I heard screaming.”
There’s a slight pause, and then I hear my wife’s voice from the other side of the bathroom door.
“It’s OK Simon. I err… just banged my leg.”
“Oh, right”, I reply, and then a thought occurs to me. “Where’s Mr Williams?”
“Oh, well he’s in here. He’s aaah… just giving it a rub for me.”
It’s very nice of Mr Williams to try to assist my wife like that, but he doesn’t have any medical equipment in there, so I decide it would be best if I help.
I open the door and find Michelle sitting on the edge of the bath, her legs spread apart, night-dress tucked up around her waist. Mr Williams is kneeling in between my wife’s legs, apparently massaging Michelle’s inner thigh.
What is a little disconcerting for me is the fact that Michelle’s vagina was on full view to our neighbour, and because her legs are placed so far apart, her lips are spread wide open. However I don’t want to draw attention to it and so I keep my mouth shut.
I must confess, seeing my wife’s genitals like this is a considerable turn-on for me. Michelle doesn’t normally show her naughty bits off to me because we found that I was liable to ejaculate rather prematurely, as was demonstrated on our wedding night. So, in an effort to prolong the pleasure for my loved one, I make sure that my wife is safely tucked under the covers, out of sight, before I come into the bedroom (as it were).
Standing there in our bathroom, I put the medical box down on the toilet seat and open it up. Meanwhile Mr Williams continues to rub his hands all over my wife’s thighs, concentrating on the insides. Michelle makes a slight groaning noise now and then. She’s obviously in some pain.
“Would you like me to take over?” I ask Mr Williams, who I notice is still very much naked from the waist down; his large weapon dangles between his legs.
“No!” Snaps Michelle, “Pass Dan some ointment that he can rub in.”
I rummage in the box, looking for some appropriate medication for my loved one’s ills, without much luck.
“I’m sorry dear there doesn’t seem to…”
“There!” she points to a plastic tube on the windowsill.
I picked up the container and read the label.
“But this is moisturising lotion!” I say quizzically, fearing that my wife’s pain was making her delirious.
Mr Williams twists round and grabs the tube from me, immediately squeezing a large amount into the palm of his hand. “This’ll do fine”, he says.
Cupping his hand slightly, Mr Williams smoothes the cool cream on Michelle’s inner thigh, very close to her you know what. Working his hand in a circular motion he moves it higher and higher up my wife’s leg, until eventually his hand is directly over my wife’s pink vagina.
Incidently my wife keeps most of her pubic area clean-shaven except for a small amount at the top of her mound. She tells me that it’s more hygienic like that.
When Mr William’s fingers start gently rubbing my wife’s inner labia, I started to get a little concerned. Not feeling that this is quite proper, I clear my throat and speak.
“Is that really where you’re hurting, my love?”
“Oh yes! Don’t stop. That feels so good!”
Mr Williams now appears to have several fingers inserted into my wife’s vagina and is thrusting them in and out. It occurs to me that his two fingers are about double the thickness of my penis, so I’m very concerned that he might be hurting my wife.
I take great care when making love to my wife that my penis doesn’t cause too much friction when moving in and out of her vagina. She often remarks to me not to worry, as there’s no danger of that happening.
However, despite my misgivings about the situation, the treatment offered by Mr Williams seems to be doing some good, if the cries from my wife are any indication.
“Yes! Oh yesss!” she pleads, and actually takes hold of Mr Williams’ hand and pulls it harder towards her.
My penis is making a dent in my dressing gown by this time and I fear that I might not be able to hold out much longer. I know it isn’t right to get a sexual kick out of my poor wife’s situation, but I just can’t help it. I try to think of cricket and tax returns but it’s proving very difficult.
My train of thought iss broken by a rather strange request from Mr Williams.
“Quick, Simon. Rub some of that lotion on my dick!”
It takes a few moments for the words to register, and even longer for me to react. But before I have a chance to ask “Why?” he picks up the tube and squirts a big dollop in my hand.
“Come on Simon, your wife is waiting.”
I look perplexed over at Michelle who’s leaning back over the bath, bracing her hands against the wall behind her. I notice that one of the straps of her night-dress has fallen off her shoulder, exposing one of her large, firm, breasts.
“Do as he says!” she hisses.
Not wanting to displease my darling wife, I drop to the floor and reach between the new neighbour’s legs. Taking his hot, giant member in one hand, I’m amazed at the monster’s girth. Holding it up, I smooth my other hand over the head of his penis.
“That’s it. Work it all over”, instructs Mr Williams, and I immediately comply, covering the whole of his big shiny weapon with the moisturising cream.
My neighbour, satisfied with my application, nudges me out of the way and shuffles towards Michelle. He removes his fingers from her vagina and then to my horror, lines his big, fat, penis up with my wife’s gaping hole.
“Wha- what are you doing?” I ask incredulously.
“What does it look like?” he replies casually.
I look to my wife who pleads to me with her eyes.
“Please Simon, I need this man’s cock inside me. You do understand, don’t you?”
Well I do pride myself on being a caring and understanding husband, it’s true. However, I wasn’t sure that this is altogether right. But looking into my gorgeous wife’s eyes, I know that her happiness is more important to me than anything else and I could tell that this is something that she really wants. The fact that her hands are clenched around Mr Williams’ buttocks, pulling him closer towards her, is a fair indication too.
And so I just smile weakly and say nothing.
“Tell you what sport, you can put it in for me,” says Mr Williams, who I think is feeling a little sorry for me.
Michelle grins and nods her head enthusiastically at me, urging me on.
“Go on Simon. Put his big prick in me,” she enthuses.
I reach over and take hold of the big staff for the second time. Michelle moves her legs forward to accept her prize, and I position the huge, bulbous head against my wife’s sticky entrance. Slowly I ease the well lubricated head inside my wife, her vaginal walls stretching to accommodate the big snake, until about three or four inches are inside my wife.
“OK Simon, I think I can take it from here”, quips Mr Williams, taking hold of Michelle’s bottom cheeks resting on the side of the bath.
With that he pushes his large penis inside my wife of three weeks.
“Oooh yes! Oh my God, you’re so fucking huge!”
Mr Williams pulls his greased-up weapon out slightly, then slams it deeper inside Michelle’s accommodating vagina. Soon he’s building up a steady rhythm and giving my wife long, deep strokes.
“Argh yes! Fuck me! Your cock is so beautiful!”
My wife is writhing and making all sorts of funny noises as our neighbour continues to pummel his penis in and out of her hole.
“Oooh I’m cuming! I’m cuming! I…”
Michelle’s face grows all contorted and at one point I fear that she may have done herself some kind of internal injury. This is all too much for me though, I’m afraid. My little five-inch penis, tucked away beneath my apron and dressing gown, can finally take no more. Inexplicably I feel my minnow penis erupt without me even touching it, and a thin stream of watery semen runs down my leg.
I’m proud to say that Mr Williams wasn’t very far behind, and it makes me wonder what his personal best is.
“Oh Michelle, I’m gonna cum!” he exclaims, still thrusting in and out of my wife.
Michelle pulls our neighbour tightly to her with one hand.
“Don’t pull out. I want you to cum inside my cunt! Put a baby in me please!”
I’m extremely alarmed at this, but I put it down to over-enthusiasm on my wife’s part. She seems to be getting carried away with her love making, which is funny because she never says anything like that when I make love to her.
“Oh, oh, oh! Here it comes!”
Mr Williams makes one final thrust, pushing his gigantic member as far into my wife as it will go. Then he freezes as he empties a sac- load of sperm into my wife. I can tell there’s a lot because some of it begins seeping out Michelle’s vagina and drips onto the bathroom tiles.
“Oh my God,” my wife eventually says after regaining her composure. “I think I’m going to have triplets!”
“Are you feeling any better now dear?” I ask.